


Dandelion Wish

by TheSunshineDragon



Series: Pieces of The Healer's Cottage [6]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Found Family, Gen, Healers, Historical Inaccuracy, How is that not a tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Medical Inaccuracies, Nobility, humor?, i still can't tag, reason for historical in accuracies explained in the series notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSunshineDragon/pseuds/TheSunshineDragon
Summary: "The castle remained dark and quiet.Unassuming.It was just him, the dandelion field, and the full moon.A childish joy bloomed in Seungmin’s chest as he inhaled the fresh night air and he burst into giggles, turning around and continued running towards the woods.Towards freedom.Or death."Kept captive in a castle tower from a young age by a mad and murderous father, Seungmin didn't know what freedom was until he escapes one night, despite his fears. Landing himself in Rothbury brings about a new life he wouldn't have dreamed of.
Series: Pieces of The Healer's Cottage [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917703
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Dandelion Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Ruth B.'s album, Safe Haven, on repeat almost the entire time I was writing this, especially the track, Dandelions. Safe Haven and Dandelions kinda set the tone for this and I really struggled with what to title it. 
> 
> *throws this semi-edited mess into cyberspace*

Seungmin walked the moonlight halls quietly, his white clothing floating behind him as the cool fall breeze breezed its way through the open windows and cracks in the old castle walls. It was quiet, the local nightlife making minimal noise. He stopped at a window and leaned on the sill, looking out at one of the fields that surrounded the castle. The wind picked up and ruffled Seungmin’s hair as he leaned out, watching the landscape. The moon hung big in the sky, winking between the big clouds that were slowly moving on their journey. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, before turning around and continuing his wandering through the castle, not looking for anything in particular other than to just stretch his legs.

It was almost dawn when Seungmin finally arrived back in his tower, changed into his bedclothes, and collapsed into his bed, exhausted from his roaming. The sun had just peeked over horizon when the young man finally fell asleep, and fitfully so. Sleep hadn’t come easily to Seungmin over the last several years, case in point being when he woke up promptly a handful hours later when the sun was right overhead. His usual meal was sitting on the table by the fireplace, a new book lying next to it.

He rose, rubbing his eyes vigorously as if it would get rid of the constant weariness that lingered behind his eyes and in his head. With a groan, he flopped backwards onto the bed, closing his eyes, wishing for sleep.

It was the same thing every day.

It had been for so many years.

Honestly it was a miracle he’d even found the passage out of the tower, hidden in the back of his mostly empty wardrobe. Desperation (or boredom, it had been hard to tell at the time) was a good motivator for finding secrets.

If only he could get out of this stupid castle.

Theoretically he could, Seungmin mused for the millionth time as he finally rose from the bed, changed out of his bedclothes, and sat to eat his cold meal and start on the new book. But he just…couldn’t.

He ate slowly, mostly for the sake of killing time, which he seemed to have an overabundance of at the moment.

He focused his thoughts on the new book, flipping open the cover to see the title.

“The Canterbury Tales, huh?” he mused aloud, moving from the table to the side chair by the barred window after he finished his meal. Stacks of read books lined the wall underneath the window, some more worn than others from multiple readings.

He read a few pages, then left the book open in his lap as he watched out the window. As he watched the landscape, the china from his dishes clinked and he whipped his head around, locking eyes with the scullery maid, who froze in her tracks as they stared at each other.

The silence stretched before Seungmin snorted and turned his attention back to the window. “I won’t hurt you. Whatever they told you probably isn’t true.”

A beat of silence.

“Well, the attempting to jump out the window part is true, but that’s it.”

More silence. Then…

“Why?”

Seungmin’s breath hitched at the quiet question. A spark of anger and indignation rose in his chest before dying out as quickly as it came.

“Because I’ve been caged like an animal,” he said quietly, turning back to observe the mouse-like girl whose hands shook slightly as she quickly picked up the china and set it on the tray, trying to watch Seungmin at the same time. “Tell me, what would you do if your father locked you up in a tower, deranged and having convinced himself into thinking you killed his wife?”

“I saw you last night,” she blurted out suddenly, nearly dropping a dish in fright as Seungmin stood suddenly at her words, distress written all over his face. “I-I didn’t s-say anything, I swear.”

Seungmin’s face went abruptly blank as he stared at her, before sitting himself down in the chair again and curling up in it.

“You should be more careful,” he said bluntly, then ignored her the rest of the time she was in the room.

He never saw her again and hoped that she had only be discharged from the household and not another body to add to his father’s count.

Life continued on much the same mundane way. Midnight roaming through the castle, late breakfast, some light reading, more questioning of his staying in the castle, a nice dinner, you get the idea.

The thread connecting him to the castle slowly started to break more and more, though, the more he dwelled on the idea of leaving.

His father came and saw him one day, breaking the routine.

Surprise visits weren’t unusual, just painful, jarring, and, well, surprising.

The old man’s hair was white, thinning, and wild. He looked older than he should, cheeks sunken in and his eyes held a crazed look in them as they roved around the room and over Seungmin, as if some hidden door would suddenly reveal itself.

“Did you come to say hello?” Seungmin said, putting all his effort into sounding bored, flipping a page in his book. In truth, he was having trouble breathing, fear clawing at his throat. “Or are you simply here to see if I’m still alive?”

The massive dog beside his father growled before lying down, settling itself on the stone floor. Seungmin didn’t know what breed it was, only just to stay as far away from it as possible, preferably with a weapon in hand.

The scars on his arm were a painful lesson to keep his distance from the beast.

“I didn’t know I raised such a mannerless son.”

Seungmin laughed mirthlessly. “You didn’t raise me at all. You locked me in here when I was ten, remember?”

The room suddenly spun, pain blooming on the side of his face. Seungmin grabbed the edge of his chair, trying to remain seated as he reoriented himself, seeing his father’s hand retract out of his peripheral vision.

“I will not tolerate your sass, young man,” his father growled in his ear. “Is that understood?”

Seungmin nodded hastily, hating himself for his fleeting bravery, fear overwhelming his senses.

“Good.” His father walked back towards the door. “The deal is still the same.” His head suddenly twitched to the side in an odd manner as he turned around, the crazed look in his eye more apparent.

“And my answer is still no,” Seungmin ground out, hoping that answer wouldn’t result in another slap to the face.

Thankfully, it didn’t. 

His father blinked, then turned on his heel. “Then here you remain.” The heavy door swung behind him and Seungmin relaxed when he heard the lock click, effectively keeping a barrier between him and his deranged father.

(And the beast of a dog)

_We both know who really killed her._

The thread that was tying Seungmin to the tower finally started to break into its final strands one day sometime after his father had visited. He was looking out his window out at the field of dandelions that were slowly dying into their poufy heads in the late summer heat, wondering what the bare grass would feel like underneath his feet (he couldn’t remember). The wind blew harshly through the open window, rustling the curtains and papers in the room, the dawning sun bathing the meadow in a soft gold light.

Freedom had always been so close, really, with his secret passage that allowed him access to the inside. Why should he stay? His father never kept a full staff, so it would be easy to get out.

There was nothing here for him but a slow death.

He snorted at the thought, turning around and wrapping his arms around himself, fingers rubbing a fold in the fabric. He paced his room back and forth.

He had no money, nowhere to go, no supplies of any kind other than the clothes on his back and the boots somewhere underneath his bed.

(Surely he could find a job or something somewhere to support himself)

Hands ran through dark hair in worry.

The wolves in the forests might get to him first.

(He hadn’t heard them howl in ages)

Bare feet scuffed against the stone floor, turning back around another lap as they paced.

Maybe another wild animal would make him into a tasty meal.

(Father hunted regularly, he knew that much, surely nothing more harmful than a pheasant walked the woods)

Father would kill him if he ever found him outside of the tower again.

Literally.

Seungmin paused in his pacing at that thought, staring out the barred window again.

_Father would kill me if he ever found me…free._

Freedom.

So what if he didn’t make it through the woods?

_It would be better than eventually rotting away here or being murdered in my sleep._

He paced a few more laps before climbing into his bed and burying himself under the covers, curling into a ball. He rubbed the scars on his arm, faintly hearing the collar of the mutt outside his door jingle as it moved. A shudder ran down his spine at the sound.

_The wolves or the dog, Seungmin._

_Freedom or caged like the animal that’s outside the door._

_Eventual death by the hands of that man who calls himself your father._

The thread broke, the strands falling limply into oblivion.

_Better to be free for a day, than caged for a lifetime._

_Right?_

That night he ran, white clothing streaming behind him, leaving dandelion heads floating in his wake as he broke their stems under his bare feet.

The boots hadn’t fit. He had forgotten they were made years ago for much smaller feet.

Much more naïve, innocent feet.

He hadn’t been able to find it in himself to care, stuffing the shoes back underneath the bed, which had been neatly made.

Seungmin stopped and whipped around in the middle of the field, looking back at the manor with its lone tower rising from the left of it. The wind blew, whipping his clothes about him and tearing more dandelions apart, leaving him looking through a cloud of tufts hanging in the air. He listened, heart pounding in his chest, wholly expecting there to be a ruckus, someone discovering his disappearance.

But nothing happened.

The castle remained dark and quiet.

Unassuming.

It was just him, the dandelion field, and the full moon.

A childish joy bloomed in Seungmin’s chest as he inhaled the fresh night air and he burst into giggles, turning around and continued running towards the woods.

Towards freedom.

_Or death_.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care about how long it would be before he faced a possibly painful death in the woods.

~~~

It was late one evening. Minho and Felix had decided to eat at one local taverns for dinner instead of cooking themselves and were currently walking back in the late dusk to home. The weather was just about perfect for the summer. Not too hot, not too humid. There was a faint smell of rain in the air, but no clouds on the horizon (Felix kept insisting it was going to rain, but Minho was skeptical).

The pair were chatting idly, slowly walking down the forested road.

“I was thinking maybe we should start clearing out the attic before we get into fall and the colder weather,” Minho said, watching a pebble skitter across the road as he kicked it. “And before people start getting seasonal colds.”

Felix hummed in agreement. “That’s probably a good idea. Hopefully there won’t be any rats inhabiting the attic.”

Minho laughed, throwing an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “If there are, I’m sure you’ll scream like a girl.”  
  


“Hey! You scream like a girl, too!” Felix said indignantly, slapping Minho’s shoulder, but making no effort to move out from under his arm.

“I do not!”

“Do too!”

“Prove it.”

“Find me a rat and I will.”

“I swear if you bring _any_ rats into my house, I will kick your rear end into the next town.”

The bickering continued as they walked, until they heard the cracking of tree branches, but no source of the noise visible. The pair froze and instantly began looking around. Minho’s knife appeared in his hand and he put Felix behind him, the latter complying without complaint.

“See anything?” Minho asked quietly as they looked around at the trees, trying to find a source of the noise.

“No,” Felix responded. “Anyone there?”

It was all quiet, then…

Felix let out a screech as a figure who was absolutely covered in a nightmarish layer of mud and foliage came stumbling out of the bushes. Minho whipped around, ready to fight, but the figure stumbled two steps before collapsing limply to the ground with a groan, remaining unmoving, before he could advance and attack.

“What in the world?!”

~~~

It was late. Very, very late.

Minho stared at the young man on couch, hot mug of tea resting in his hands. Felix had since gone to bed, not as bothered as Minho was by the injured being lying on their couch.

_“His feet are in bad shape,” Felix said, frowning as he worked to clean the mud and blood off of the young man’s feet, trying to be as gentle as possible. Cuts, blisters, and scrapes littered the soles and Felix winced as he uncovered each new injury. “I think his left ankle is sprained, too. It’s all swollen and bruised.”_

_“That’s his most serious injury, then,” Minho stated, wiping his hands free from the dirt and throwing the rag into a bucket that sat to the side. “He’s just scraped up and bruised anywhere else. What worries me is this fever he has.”_

_“And how skinny he is,” Felix commented calmly, spreading a thick layer of salve on and then wrapping them. The ankle was next, snuggly wrapped in a layer of stiffer bandages to keep it from moving too much._

_After everything that needed a bandaged was bandaged, the two healers wrangled the limp boy, surprisingly still unconscious, onto the couch in the living room and he was covered with a blanket. A damp rag was laid over his forehead to help with the fever and Minho set about brewing a mug of tea, Felix trundling off to bed after making sure everything was cleaned up. Minho settled himself in an arm chair to watch the boy, not wanting to leave him alone if he woke up._

So that was how Minho found himself sitting late into the night, unable to sleep, despite his tiredness, trying to figure out where their mystery patient would’ve come from. They’d dressed him in a set of Felix’s clothing, discarding the robes he’d been wearing (probably had been white at some point, Minho mused, making a face of disgust as he sipped his cold tea, the brew bitter from having gone cold).

At least the fever had vanished a couple hours ago, though Minho suspected it would come and go.

Yawning, Minho set his cold mug of tea down on the table next to him and curled up in the chair, dragging a throw blanket up to his shoulders and closing his eyes.

When Felix came down the stairs early the next morning, he was greeted to the sight of Minho fast asleep in the armchair, curled up underneath a throw blanket, neck at an angle that made Felix wince sympathetically. Their mystery patient had rolled over onto his side sometime in the night, still sound asleep. Making his way over to the couch first, Felix laid a hand on the young man’s forehead, pleased that it was cool to the touch. He heard a groan behind him and he turned his head to see Minho waking up, stretching his neck, blanket falling into his lap as he straightened into an upright position.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Felix whispered with a smile.

Minho grumbled something unintelligible, too busy waking up and stretching out his stiff muscles, bones cracking. Felix snickered at the sigh of pleasure that was released by Minho when a particularly loud pop came from the elder’s back as he arched and stretched, not unlike a cat.

“You sound like an old man with the way you’re creaking,” Felix teased quietly.

Minho settled for a mild glare in response, brain still sluggish from sleep, but his knees only proved Felix’s point as he stood, both popping loudly at the movement, Felix snickering at the sound.

“What’s…going on?”

  
Felix and Minho instantly turned their attention to the couch, the young man blinking in confusion as he too woke, looking disoriented.

“Where am I?” He tried to sit himself up, not making it very far as his arms gave out, too weak to support his weight, falling back onto the couch with a grunt.

“I’m Felix, the old man over there is Minho. You’re on the couch in our living room. What’s your name?” Felix asked as he helped him sit up.

“Seungmin.” Seungmin squinted and blinked at Minho as the healer joined Felix beside the couch. “You’re not old, though?”

Minho rolled his eyes and snorted. “I’m not. Stopping feeding the kid lies, Lix, it doesn’t suit you. How are you feeling, Seungmin?”

“Sore. Hungry. Tired.”

Felix nodded. “I’ll get started on breakfast, then.” He rose and exited the room, leaving Minho to deal with Seungmin, the sounds of cooking soon coming from the kitchen.

“Sore’s only natural,” Minho said, taking Felix’s place and pulling up the blanket that was over Seungmin to look at his ankle, unwrapping the joint. “Whatever you went through in those woods, I’m surprised you didn’t have more injuries other than scrapes, bruises, and a sprained ankle.”

Seungmin hummed noncommittally, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt, pausing at the feel of the fabric, peering at it suspiciously. “These aren’t my clothes.”

“They’re Felix’s,” Minho said, examining Seungmin’s ankle. “Yours were in tatters and absolutely filthy.” The swelling had gone down a little, which was good. He definitely wanted Seungmin to soak it in cold water though.

“Did you throw them out?”

Minho paused briefly in his rewrapping of the ankle, inspection done. “Yes. Why, did you want them?”

“No.”

Minho didn’t miss the look that passed over Seungmin’s face, but chose not to comment on it. As he finished wrapping the ankle, Felix popped in briefly with two mugs, one of coffee and one of tea, handing them both to Minho, disappearing back into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding tripping over one of the cats who had taken residence in the doorway in hopes of a snack. Minho handed Seungmin the tea and settled back in his arm chair.

“Your ankle will take a few weeks to heal completely,” Minho said, drinking the coffee as he talked, welcoming the alertness that was coming with it. Seungmin nodded, not looking at Minho, instead choosing to stare into his mug between sips. “Do you have somewhere to stay until then? With family or friends, perhaps?”

“No, there’s no one,” Seungmin responded quietly, hands curling tightly around the mug.

“I see.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Minho chuckled, startling Seungmin, who looked at him in confusion. “I forgot to mention, Felix and I are both healers. Like Felix said, you’re in our living room in our cottage. We’re just outside of a town called Rothbury.”

“I haven’t heard of it.”

Minho shrugged. “It’s not an important town, so I’m not surprised. We generally tend to keep to ourselves, unless some moron tries to drag us into a war, then the residents politely decline, and the world moves on.”

“Has Rothbury ever been in a war?” Seungmin asked, curious (and not really wanting to talk about himself).

Minho tilted his head in thought. “Mmm….I think maybe once, half a century ago. The town historian would know better than me, though. He’s been around _forever,_ no one’s really sure which mayor appointed him, he’s been around for so long. Where do you hail from, Seungmin?”

The abrupt question nearly made Seungmin swallow his tea the wrong way. His mind racing as he cleared his throat, he was unsure of how to answer. There was no way his father held any jurisdiction over Rothbury, much less Minho and Felix.

  
He was done with playing the part of pansy, though, his resolve turning steely. If he wanted to keep going, he needed to be brave (which sounded ridiculously corny, Seungmin though belatedly, but if it was what encouraged him, so be it). 

“Barrow Burn area, it’s to the north by the Scotland border,” he finally said. “My family’s lived there for centuries. We’re nobility, but our rank has declined over the years.” He snorted in amusement as a thought hit him. “I think the Crown, whoever it is now, has forgotten about Barrow Burn.”

“Ah, I see. I haven’t been in that part of the north, but I hear there isn’t much.”

“I…wouldn’t know,” Seungmin said quietly. “I don’t remember much of my journey through the woods.”

Minho hummed noncommittally, musing over Seungmin’s words. He’d never heard of Barrow Burn until now, that much was true, he was from the northeast corners of England and hadn’t travelled outside of the Rothbury area much (he really wanted to go south sometime, but that was an adventure for another time).

“So what are you doing down here and not in Barrow Burn?”

Felix suddenly appeared with breakfast right as Minho asked the question, much to Seungmin’s relief. But it was short-lived as Minho continued to press for information (despite Felix’s teasing scolding). He eventually spilled the entire story as they ate, despite his sketchy memories of the last few days.

The part with the woods came first. He remembered getting into the woods after escaping the castle, running and walking in the night and into the early morning hours, collapsing in a grove of smaller trees within the giant trees of the forest and sleeping well into the afternoon, surprisingly undisturbed by the local wildlife. When he’d woken, hungry and thirsty, he’d picked himself up and tried to find something that didn’t look like it would kill him at first bite, continuing on his journey through the forest.

He had had little success, settling for a small dinner of nuts (more like a snack, he remembered musing bitterly), unable to find water. There had been no signs of a search party until the second day, when a group of horsemen wearing his father’s colors had startled him with their sudden appearance. Seungmin had spent the next couple of days stumbling through the woods, narrowly avoiding several run-ins with the search parties, desperation driving him forward and further into the woods, and eventually to where he’d collapsed in front of Minho and Felix, body finally giving out.

As they sat digesting breakfast, the part about him being locked up in the tower for almost a decade was blurted out, too (the whole thing had honestly been about as anticlimactic as it could get, with Felix and Minho offering him one of the spare bedrooms for his use until he was healed and able to figure out what to do).

“That is so twisted,” Felix had finally said, after Seungmin explained how his father had gone mad early in his childhood, he just hadn’t known until he found his mother bleeding out and his father forcing the knife into his hands, trying to convince the poor child that he had somehow killed her.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Seungmin said, making a face as his stomach flipped a few times from the food he had just ingested (apparently going without sustenance for several days messed up your body). “I couldn’t even begin to understand what was going on in his head.” It was weird to be talking about the story to two total strangers, but Seungmin felt safe and it was reliving to finally be free and tell _someone_ what had happened. Minho and Felix seemed to completely understand what he had been through, which struck him as odd, but he wasn’t going to deal with that right now.

“What about the scars on your arm?” Felix asked. “We saw them when we were working on your injuries.”

“Dog attack,” Seungmin said simply, grimacing at the memory. “One of the maids made the mistake of leaving the door unlocked when I was about thirteen and I tried to escape, only to run into this beast of a dog my father had guarding the door in case I tried to escape. I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.”

Both healers winced in sympathy, Minho especially.

“Well, you’re here now and free to stay with us as long as you need to,” Felix said, reiterating what they had said earlier.

Seungmin cracked a smile and thanked them profusely.

Who knew such kindness existed in this cruel world?

The next couple of weeks were weird. Minho and Felix were so, so kind and patient (despite Minho’s grumpy exterior and glares, it was clear he was a softie on the inside, especially for kids) and it startled Seungmin after what he had grown up with. It was frustrating how little energy he had the first several days as his body recuperated because he wanted to explore, but Minho and Felix had encouraged him and as Seungmin recovered he was eventually able to spend most of his days out on the porch or in the small meadow behind the cottage, just sitting and daydreaming (or napping, as Felix found out one evening, the younger fast asleep). He never strayed farther than the boundaries of the property, though, hesitant to enter Rothbury until his ankle and feet were fully healed and he was capable of running if need be, without worry of reinjury.

One of his favorite things was the rainstorm that came a few weeks after he’d arrived. The sky had become stormy overnight and the skies had opened up the next day, drenching everything in sheets of rain. Seungmin had dragged Felix out into the rain and the two had danced around (more like hobbled, in Seungmin’s case, his ankle still sore from the sprain), laughing and chasing each other until streaks of lightening crossed the sky, forcing the two indoors, where Minho was waiting with dry clothing and hot tea, smiling fondly at their antics.

Seungmin marveled at the small world he was encapsulating himself in at the healer’s cottage. As childish as it seemed, everything felt _new_ , the fleeting memories of his short childhood providing little basis on he was experiencing now.

If there was one thing Seungmin was incredibly happy about, it was the opportunity to learn what he wanted, when he wanted.

It had started with knitting, of all things, late in the fall. They had been sitting around the fireplace after dinner one evening and Felix had pulled a basket filled with yarn and various knitting needles seemingly out of nowhere, a half finished cream-colored scarf dangling from a set of needles. It took all of five minutes before Seungmin was started on his own, Felix patiently explaining the steps, Minho smirking as he watched the duo, absently stroking one of the cats as he sipped his tea.

Knitting turned into sewing, then cooking, and before he knew it, winter had passed and Seungmin was as well armed as he could be with the knowledge Felix and Minho had passed on to him about household activities. His hands were getting calloused and worn, a far cry from the soft and smooth surface they had been before his escape, the only roughness they had known being the occasionally scratchy parchment that the book pages were made out of.

Winter had been rough for all of them in different ways, especially Felix, who had had a bad case of depression the entire time it was in the winter temperatures, especially around Christmas, keeping more to himself and seemingly always exhausted, though he did his best to remain cheerful and upbeat. Once Christmas had passed, though, it seemed liked things for Felix got better, and as the daffodils started to bloom, he seemed entirely like his normal self, any previous grayness gone.

For Seungmin, the winter months had brought nightmares of his mother’s murder and his first years in his prison of a tower, leaving him paranoid, jumping every time the door was slammed shut or someone shouted from one end of the house to another. He hated being left alone in the house, especially at night, and Felix and Minho had discovered this the hard way one night after an especially long day, Seungmin still up in the living room, curled up tightly in the corner of the couch, on the verge of panic at their unusually long absence. The situation had been rectified quickly, ending with the promise to send word if the two healers were going to be late or staying overnight and Seungmin sleeping in Felix’s bed for the night, the elder completely down for cuddling the distraughtness out of Seungmin.

As spring rolled in, bursting forth in all of its green glory, Seungmin finally felt well enough to explore Rothbury and what it held and began venturing into town to explore, hesitant at first, worried that his father’s influence spread farther than the small castle he’d grown up in, but once it became apparent no one was looking for him, his confidence grew and he managed to land himself a part time job at bookkeeping, remaining with Felix and Minho at the healer’s cottage. 

Thoughts of his father and his former life didn’t pass Seungmin’s mind frequently. The distinct lack of search parties and inquiries solidified this idea and the paranoia lessened, but never fully disappeared. For his part, Seungmin didn’t go around asking for his father’s whereabouts. Even though he moved freely around Rothbury now, he still wanted to stay hidden in his safe haven until he had confirmation his father was dead.

Before they knew it, a year had passed since his arrival and they were going into another summer. On a whim one day late in the season, Felix packed up a picnic and dragged Minho and Seungmin out to a meadow just outside of south Rothbury. When they arrived, they were greeted with a meadow of wildflower and dandelions, some already dying. A blanket was quickly laid out and the contents of the basket divulged.

As they were eating, Minho plucked a nearby dandelion and spun the golden flower in his fingers.

“Do you know the meaning of the dandelion?” He asked suddenly.

Felix and Seungmin shook their heads no.

“It’s really a representation more than a meaning, but dandelions represent healing in physical and emotional ways, emotional intelligence, and surviving through difficulties,” Minho explained. “Healers use them sometimes, but not often.”

“Kind of odd, given that the general population considers it a weed,” Seungmin commented, working his way through the thick and tasty sandwich Felix had built.

“But that’s just it,” Felix replied. “It’s a weed. It’s hardy and known for coming back again and again in gardens, no matter how many times you pull them up by the roots.”

Minho set the yellow blossom down and plucked a dying one. “Children wish on them, too,” he said quietly, suddenly blowing on the white tufts and sending them spiraling into the air.

“You know, the night I ran away, I had to go through a field just outside of the castle to get to the woods and it was covered entirely in dying dandelions,” Seungmin said, turning thoughtful. “The heads all broke off and were flying in the wind. It was like snow and it was absolutely magical to witness.”

“Then I think it’s safe to say that this is your flower, Seungmin,” Minho said with a smile, tucking the original flower he’d plucked behind Seungmin’s ear. The young man grumbled at the action, but didn’t remove the flower from its place.

“Are they really dying when they turn white, though?” Felix wondered out loud.

“I suppose not really,” Minho shrugged. “It’s probably just how they spread their seeds.”

As Minho and Felix dove into a discussion of the anatomy and lifecycle of the dandelion, Seungmin pondered the meaning of the dandelion.

Healing and survival. He supposed that’s what he’d been doing over the last few months. Seungmin had survived his father’s madness and his reckless run through the woods, landing himself in the opening arms of Felix and Minho, who had given him the opportunity to heal and make his own path, his own life.

Maybe Minho was right, the dandelion really was his flower, Seungmin mused, laying back on the blanket to look at the sky, Felix and Minho still bickering the background.

Several months later, deep in December, a small band of men wearing Seungmin’s father’s colors came through Rothbury. Seungmin saw them going through the square on his way to his job. Fear instantly struck him and he dashed down the nearest alley, watching from the shadows as they stopped in the middle of the square where the stage was, appearing to ask for directions. A young boy passed the entrance of alley Seungmin was hiding in and he reached out and grabbed the lad’s arm.

“Can you find out what those men are up to?” Seungmin asked the lad, who nodded and scurried off towards the men. He watched as the boy conversed, then dashed back to the alley.

“They’re on their way to Newcastle, sir. Said their lord died recently and there’s no heir, so they’ve got to be going to record it with someone who knows who to pass the land onto.”

Seungmin thanked the lad, who bowed and ran off to his original errand, leaving Seungmin thinking in the alley.

He turned on his heel, taking the alleys as a precaution, arriving at his job a few minutes late. Seungmin remained lost in thought all day.

  
His father was dead, gone.

As he discussed with Minho that night after dinner, Minho made the comment that maybe after Seungmin had left, his health had declined, resulting in his death.

“It would certainly explain why no one came looking for me,” Seungmin agreed, lost again in the depths of his tea.

“Do you want to attempt to reclaim the land?” Minho asked gently. “You are the rightful heir.”

Seungmin sighed heavily. “I don’t have any proof of that, though. Is it bad if I say that I don’t? I ran with no intention of going back and my life is here, now. I don’t want that responsibility and I have no interest in trying to incorporate myself into the job that comes with that fief. Is that bad?” he asked again.

Minho shook his head ‘no’. “It’s not bad to say no. In fact, that’s perfectly reasonable and a good thing. You’re right, your life is here, and you’ve worked hard to build that. There’s no point in forcing yourself into doing something you don’t even want to do in the first place.”

Seungmin nodded. Suddenly, he rose and gave Minho a hug, making the older splutter at the sudden affection, but returning the hug all the same.

“Thank you,” he said, a tad sheepish, returning to his chair.

“Any time, Seungmin, any time.”

With the decision made, the two retired for the night, Seungmin feeling at peace for the first time in awhile. No more did he have to worry about his father coming and finding him and dragging him back to the tower or killing him on the way back. He could live his life freely and as he pleased. He fell asleep smiling, the dried dandelion from their summer picnic resting in a glass bottle on the table beside his bed, a reminder of what he’d accomplished.

The next morning at breakfast Minho suddenly brought up the topic of their living arrangements.

“So, Seungmin, Felix and I have been discussing your living with us,” Minho started, completely deadpan. Seungmin’s heart suddenly dropped into his stomach. Surely the healers weren’t going to kick him out?

“Nice way to start off the conversation,” Felix said sarcastically from over the rim of his coffee mug. “What Minho is attempting to say is that we’ve never really discussed living arrangements, you kind of just stayed after you got here, so we were wondering if you wanted to make that a permanent thing.”

Seungmin suddenly laughed. “It’s a little late, don’t you think?”

Minho snorted, but he was smiling. “Well, we thought we’d make it official, especially considering yesterday’s news.”

“So what do you think, Seungmin?” Felix was looking at him eagerly.

Seungmin looked between the two. “Are you actually serious? You want me to stay permanently?”

“Yes!”

He laughed again and nodded. “I’ll stay with you guys. I don’t think I could abandon you guys just yet.”

Felix punched the air with a cheer and Minho slapped him on the back.

“Is it too cheesy to say ‘Welcome home, Seungmin’?”  
  


“Oh my gosh, Felix, go clean the dishes or something.”

“It’s a genuine question!”

Seungmin sat back and watched Minho and Felix bicker through the rest of breakfast and the entire way out the door and down the road as they went to their respective jobs, throwing an occasional jab in.

He was so glad he’d taken that risk into the unknown that one night and fled from his prison. Life was good here.

Maybe wishes on dandelions really did come true.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Notes: The castle where Seungmin grew up and was eventually held captive in is based off Harbottle Castle, residing in, of course, Northern England, but for plot and logistics reasons I had it appear further north, in the Barrow Burn area. While researching where Seungmin should come from, I ran across it on Google Maps by accident (can I just say, the English landscape is /amazing/, I really want to visit some day!) and here we are with another historical inaccuracy :P. The history of the place is actually a bit interesting, seeing as the castle itself dates from around 1174 (the mound where the keep was built is thought to have been used by ancient Britons) and saw multiple events including a takeover by the Scots, use as a prison, and as a residence for Margaret Tudor after she was banished, and other historical happenings. 
> 
> Meaning of Things Notes: The color white represents purity, innocence, and wholeness/completion. It also what we typically associate with ghosts. I didn't really write on this, since I was more focused on the dandelions, but in a twisted sense of irony, that's the reason the only color Seungmin wore for nearly a decade was white because he was innocent of his mother's murder, though his father adamantly blamed him for the murder, in essence telling him that he would be innocent if he confused (idk, it's late and everything's muddled, so that probably doesn't make much sense, sorry). Dandelions are typically used to wish upon, an old superstition most of us probably grew up with. They also represent healing in physical and emotional way, emotional intelligence, and surviving through difficulties. I think you can guess what this means for Seungmin :) 
> 
> Other Random Notes: I've realized that I've probably made it out that Minho and Felix don't do much, but trust me when I say that they do, it just hasn't become quite relevant yet. I have at least one fic planned that revolves around all of their adventures as a duo, I just haven't had many ideas yet, and I think that's because I've been preoccupied with this fic and the plots of Chickens in the Yard and Minho's backstory, since those two tie into each other (and it's a royal mess, let me tell you XD). I've also got a SKZ Magic AU that I'm needing to plan out, since it involves a /lot/ of research and will probably include some appearances of other groups because it's magic *jazz hands*, and I've been in a pirate mood lately (probably since I recently got into Ateez), and I'm expecting another mess of fic ideas to pop up (ugh, the life of a writer). Then on top of all of this I have my final months of college, a job, and life in general, so to say I'm busy is accurate XD I'm trying to write when I can, but it's tough, especially since this fic alone took a week to write, and I tend to write a single story at a time and when the inspiration hits. Kind of makes working on multiple stories difficult with such a one-track mind. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, hoping everyone's doing well, and I hope you have a fabulous day! :D


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